Rome

Somewhere in the eastern hills,
With changing leaves and ripened harvest fields,
A fading women lived alone.
She was skin and bones.

Before they dug her grave,
When her manuscripts had been bound and saved,
Her final words were spoken slow:
"I'll never leave my home.

This is my home because I call it home,
And it'll burn like Rome before I go."

How to justify my eyes?
Cold and simple, drifting as the crow flies
"Let me go to where I will,
And let the earth stand still."

But who am I to fly?
Have I no task to keep me by her side?
When all I see is all I know,
I want to know my own.

This is my home because I call it home,
And it'll burn like Rome before I go.

Don't act as if it's all or none.
I won't find my place just by crossing oceans
And I won't be guiltless if I run,
'Cause this is my home.



Credits
Writer(s): Stephen Noel Kozmeniuk, Scott Harris Friedman, Dermot Joseph Kennedy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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